Come What May

"Mr. Anderson, could you put this on for me?" The doctor asked politely, holding a gown out to Kurt. He sniffed a little, taking it with shaking hands.

"Can, can I…" he began, searching for the words. The doctor nodded, understanding. He stepped back, closing the curtain around him and Blaine, leaving the two alone inside it.

Kurt stared at the paper-thin gown, his lower lip shaking. "A-aren't there," he swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. "Aren't there pants th-that I…?"

Blaine gently took him in his arms, holding the back of his head. "Shh…it'll be alright. Just a little while longer."

"I don't want them t-to touch me," he shivered. "I-I just want you."

"I know, I know," he whispered, his heart throbbing. He kissed his cheek. "C'mon, baby, I'll help you."

"Okay."

He gently pulled the sweater over his head, easing him out of the rest of his clothes with careful, soft hands. "Shh, I've got you, I've got you."

Kurt tugged the gown over his shoulders before taking off the sweats Blaine had put on him. He shivered, now feeling exposed and naked once again. He sat on the bed, shivering. Blaine took the quilt from the chair behind him and draped it around his shoulders, knowing he wouldn't be allowed to wear it for very long. He stroked his cheek, wanting to hold him and kiss him and never let go. But no. Not now. Not yet.

He pulled the curtain back around, allowing the doctor to come back.

He asked Kurt to uncover all of his injuries, and Blaine wondered whether or not he'd have to puke.

Bruises, ligature marks on his neck, violent bite marks, scratches from nails. That's what he'd had covered. Anger burned and boiled in his stomach, making him even more murderous than he was already. That son of a bitch did this to his baby, to his angel. Kurt was staring at his lap, hands clasped tight and shaking. He'd made him like this; he'd taken away that smile. He'd stolen part of his husband away.

"This is everything," Kurt said softly, handing back the makeup covered washcloth. Blaine took his hand to assure him.

"Alright, let me look at you, Mr. Anderson," the doctor said. Reluctantly, Blaine let go as the doctor examined him.

That was the first in a long line of people that poked and prodded at him, making him whimper and cry. Kurt never took his eyes away from his husband, no matter how hard he was crying.

"It's okay, it's alright, Kurt," Blaine said softly, holding his hand whenever he could. Kurt winced as the camera went off again.

"Blaine," he breathed.

"Shh, I'm here. I'm right here. It's alright. Shh…" It was killing him to stand on the sidelines, watching Kurt cry and shake while these people touched and probed him.

It took hours for them to get every angle of every bruise, to collect any and all DNA from him, and to recount his story at least three times before they finally left him alone.

He collapsed on the bed when they did, sobbing into his hands. It was like he'd been raped all over again. He curled into the tightest ball he could, trembling from head to toe. Blaine scooped him into his arms, lifting his whole body into his chest. Kurt held onto him, sobbing into his neck.

"I want to go home!" He wailed, voice quivering. "I don't want to be here anymore, Blaine. I want to go home! I want to take a shower; I want to go to sleep! Please…"

"Okay, okay, Kurt," Blaine nodded, gulping through his own tears. "It's alright. I'll take you home in just a minute, okay? And you can shower and sleep as much as you want, alright?"

He nodded, his tears nothing but relief now. "I l-love you, Blaine," he choked. Blaine shut his eyes, unable to hold his tears back any longer.

"I love you too, Kurt."

Kurt didn't want to be alone. The silence scared him almost as much as others' hands. But asking Blaine to come into the shower with him was hard. This meant he'd see everything that Roland had done to him with nowhere to hide. He wasn't afraid of Blaine, no, but he was afraid that he wouldn't…wouldn't want him anymore.

"Kurt, I don't have to come in with you," Blaine assured. "I just offered," he tried to smile a little. "You haven't really let me go since we left the hospital."

"I'm sorry," Kurt trembled, stepping away from him. "I-I didn't mean-"

"Hey," Blaine hugged him tight. "I'm just trying to make you smile, baby. Do you want me to take a shower with you or do you want me to wait in the living room?"

"Come with me."

Kurt gasped as the water ran over him, warming him, washing away the disgusting filth he'd felt on him for what seemed like years.

Blaine looked at his husband with tearful disbelief. The bruises on his hips were almost black, his back decorated in scratches and bites. There were bruises on his ribs from being kicked and the end of the bruises on his neck from being choked. What hurt him to see the most were the welts crisscrossing on his buttocks. That son of a bitch! "Oh, Kurt," he breathed. He looked over his shoulder at him, wide, innocent eyes blinking slowly. "God, baby, come here."

He shivered and shuddered against him. Blaine rocked him slowly, kissing his temple. He very slowly and very, very gently slid his hand down his back and cupped his cheek. Kurt gasped, shutting his eyes. "Kurt, what did he do to you?" Kurt shut his eyes, whimpering softly.

"He-he made me bend over," he began. "He said if I made any noise he'd j-just keep hitting me. And-and I couldn't help it. He just, he just kept hitting me until the skin w-was raw." His knees buckled, leaving Blaine to support him. He held him tight, kissing his cheeks, knowing better than to try his lips.

"Shh, hush," he was crying himself. "Shh…It's okay, baby. It's alright. I'm here. I've got you."

He made sure Kurt didn't scrub his skin off or try to hurt himself, tentatively touching him when necessary, asking permission to help any other time.

Kurt felt better, but not totally clean. He wasn't sure if he'd ever feel that way again. Blaine draped his robe around him, lifting him up into his arms in one swift movement.

Blaine gently set him on the bed, tucking the covers around him.

"Okay, darling," Blaine said softly. "Do you want me to sleep here with you or somewhere else?" The last thing he wanted was to be near or around Kurt when he didn't want him to be.

Kurt reached up, wrapping his arms around his neck, hugging tight. "Don't go," he begged. "All I wanted when he was hurting me was you. I screamed your name ev-every time. All I want is you."

Blaine held him, crying into his hair, sobs still locked away. "I'm here, Kurt. I'm right here for you. I won't let you go, I promise."

He laid beside him, holding him tight. He stroked his face and his hair, watching his eyes, waiting for them to droop, or at least be void of tears.

"It's alright, baby. Go to sleep. It'll be better in the morning, okay?" He whispered. Kurt looked around anxiously, sniffling. "I'll be right here all night, Kurt. I'm not gonna leave you, alright?" He nodded.

"B-Blaine," he began shakily. "Do you still think I'm…?"

It took a moment for the dark-haired man to understand what he meant. A fresh wave of sobs crashed over him, clogging his throat. "Kurt, baby." He pressed his forehead to Kurt's, almost his entire face against his, hand cradling his cheek. "You are, and will always be beautiful to me. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and you will be for the rest of my life. I promise you that."

Kurt was lost in a fit of tears again, his face in Blaine's chest. He felt so ugly and so dirty. The memories of what had been done to him wouldn't leave his mind. Flashes of the pain washed over him as Blaine gently rubbed his back and his arms in attempt to soothe him.

Blaine knew Kurt would most likely cry all night, or at least until he'd cried so much that he didn't have the strength to stay awake anymore. And he would hold him, shush him, caress him, soothe him in any way he knew how.

This wasn't going to be the hardest part. The first night never was. The second night, when the nightmares start to ravage his mind and deprive him of sleep that he so desperately needed, that would be the hardest.

He carefully lifted his chin. "Kurt, can I kiss you?" He asked softly. A small nod. He whimpered a little when Blaine met his lips. It was soft, chaste and so gentle. Blaine held him when they broke apart. "Sleep, baby. Just go to sleep. I'm right here if you need me."

Kurt nuzzled his face in Blaine's chest, curling against him to be completely surrounded by him. Maybe that would keep Roland's face out of his mind.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Hummel?"

"Blaine, I told you, you don't have to call me that anymore."

"Right, sorry, um…I, God, I don't know what to do…"

"What is it? Is there something wrong with Kurt? Is he alright? Did-?"

"Mr. -uh, Burt, please, let me explain…"

Two Days Later…

Kurt sat on the couch, knees in his chest, staring at the T.V. but not watching. He took a deep breath, trying to breathe through tears he felt coming.

God damn it, stop crying. Why the hell are you crying? There's nothing to cry about, damn it!

He jumped as the couch moved, feeling even more worthless than before. God, someone's just sitting down, you puss!

"Kurt."

His head snapped up at the voice, eyes filling to the brim with tears. "Dad?" Burt wrapped his arms around his son, hugging him tight. Kurt squeezed back, sobbing.

"I'm here, Kurt. I'm here. It's okay, buddy."

"Daddy…"

Blaine stood in the doorway, smiling a little. He could only help him so much, and there were certain things that only a parent could do.